Future Girlboss Power Drinkers Give Me Chest Pain
Seeing and feeling things again on Placido Domingo in Mexico.
Two pale gringas are seated opposite the Palapa bar. They have arrived to start their summer holiday between their sophomore and junior years at San Diego State.
Their Papis paid their first-class fare and they are staying in an Airbnb villa between Bucerias and Flamingos with eight more bedrooms than they need.
Papi uno is a plastic surgeon in Laguna Niguel who trims all the excess flaps of labia off the lonely housewives of Orange County hoping to make their fantasies with Pedro the hedge trimmer come true.
Papi numero dos is the CFO of a biotechnology company in La Jolla hoping to get bought out by one of the certifiable big killers with perpetual legal immunity.
His company will soon release the phase 3 trial results of a drug that destroyed eleven of forty subjects but will be announced as a stunning success in a press release to Trial Site News that will say it alleviates something uniquely American that can already be alleviated with vitamins and a proper diet.
It will receive immediate approval by the FDA sending the stock soaring from $1.55 to $6.90 per share at which point Papi Dos will sell all his shares and announce his retirement before the truth leaks out.
The blonde sisters met rushing the Alpha Phi house two years ago and are now besties who share a TikTok channel that features them dancing in their underwear for their sixteen thousand followers, mostly lonely desperate simps with too much time and money, and no brains.
Their Papis know they dance in their underwear but do not care.
They start with tequila shots. Three in a row, one after the other.